Going Through Hell
by Your Iron Lung
Summary: He's only got one chance to get out, and Luce is the only one who can give it to him; not to take it would be suicide, but Lamont still has his hesitations. After all, living out of a car with the Aussie would be just as bad. Young Lamont and Worth.


He woke up to the sounds of someone's car honking incessantly somewhere in the night.

Honk, honk, honk, honk.

It wouldn't stop, and even though all Lamont wanted to do was fucking _sleep_, he couldn't when some douche-bag outside was blaring on his horn.

"Jesus Christ." He mumbled into his pillow, attempting to drown out the sound of the insistent noise by wrapping the object around his head, but to no avail. Whoever was pounding on the horn simply wouldn't quit. "Fucking Christ."

Rolling out of bed and on to the floor, it took all the energy he had to rouse himself up off the ground and grumble angrily as he exited his bedroom, when it suddenly occurred to him; that horn was familiar- he'd heard it numerous times before.

"God- Fuck- _LUCE_." He shouted as he opened his front door to glare seedily at the man who was, in fact, parked adjacent to his mostly dead lawn and grinning stupidly at him and tapping away on that stupid horn of his and looking like he'd just won the god damn lottery. Fucking Luce. Of course.

"Get in." the Aussie commanded, gesturing to the windowless door.

"Do you even know what time it is? God dammit Luce, can't you- wait, what the hell're you doing here? I thought you were in school?"

"Nah." Luce said, shaking his head with a sneer. "I quit. Now _you_ quit yer grippin' 'n get in."

"Quit? What do you mean, 'quit'? What are you doing here; the fuck is going on."

Though it was dark, Lamont could still barely make out the blatant roll of the eyes Luce was giving him. He could hear him as he flicked his lighter, lighting up a cigarette and briefly illuminating his oddly thin face. Lamont watched as the ember bobbed when the Aussie spoke.

"'m leavin', 'n yer comin' wi' me."

Lamont frowned, clearly confused.

"I don't follow."

"Ain' nothin' t' follow! Just get in th' damn car, 'Mont!"

Still he hesitated; Luce wasn't making much sense. If what he said was true, and he had in fact dropped out of university, then what was this? Some kind of feel-good trip? It sounded like a terrible idea. Luce always had terrible ideas.

"Look, Luce, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but you're not Jack Kerouac. Whatever you're planning on doing isn't going to work and I'm going back to bed."

He jumped as he turned around, the sound of Luce's horn being hit hard capturing his attention once again and causing the Franco-Italian man to turn and glare venomously at the man behind the wheel. Luce laughed.

"The _hell_ is wrong with you? Do you _want_ to wake up my parents?"

Luce stared coyly back at him, not saying anything as the ashes from his cigarette fell carelessly to the upholstered seat.

"Lookitcher life, 'Mont. Ain't nothin' worth stickin' 'round here fer. What are ya, 25 'n still livin' wi' yer mum? Y' got nothin' here, so come wi' me."

Lamont bristled and glared. While it was true that yes, he did still live with his parents and his life wasn't as productive as he'd hoped it'd be by now, it didn't give Luce the right to call him out on it. He was _trying_, dammit. He didn't have the money and the resources like Luce did to go to school and learn to be...whatever it was he wanted to be. It was just taking a while; as soon as he got that kick, that sort of jump-start to get him going he'd be as successful as anyone else, school or no.

"Listen 'ere, 'Mont." Luce said, and Lamont couldn't help but sigh as the blonde man gestured him closer. He obeyed, stooping by the opened window to gaze at Luce before he continued. "Them's here're th' facts: 'm leavin' whether 'r not ya decided t' come. I'm offerin' ya a way out. Yer not gonna get outta this town what with th' way yer goin' 'bout things; yer too passive. This place'll sooner rip th' bones from yer back 'fore it'll letcha out.

"Now, y' c'n get in this car right th' fuck now 'n get out while y' c'n, or y' c'n sit around 'n wallow around 'nd piss yer time away with yer folks while yer best mate goes out 'n makes somethin' of 'imself, _Lamchop_."

He openly cringed at the use of his mother's affectionate nickname, and that was, perhaps, what sent it all home for him. Luce knew just what to say to make him feel miserable about himself; always had. Probably always would. Asshole.

"Do you have any money?"

"Folks disowned me." Luce grinned, wide and wicked, indicating that he didn't have any more than was in his pockets at that exact moment.

"Where'll we stay?"

"We'll live outta th' car fer a bit."

"My hair will get greasy." He didn't know why he was even putting up an argument at this point, but he felt that he mustn't give in without at least some sort of fight; else Luce become exceedingly arrogant in the near future. Not that he wasn't already, but if he allowed himself to go without thinking this through however briefly, who knew what troubles he'd have to prepare himself for in the future? Not to mention the thought of living out of a car with Luce was entirely unfavorable.

"Yer hair's already greasy, y' stupid guido."

This was the first time since they'd had their little 'heart to heart' about relationship troubles some time ago that Luce had been this serious in conversation. It would've been unsettling, except for the grin that never stopped flashing across his face that somehow kept it from tilting over into being something…well, meaningful.

"Where-"

"Who th' fuck cares! We'll go anywhere these lanes'll fuckin' take us, Monty." Luce said, gesturing toward the road in front of him with gusto and an eager look of anticipation.

He felt like he was in some sort of modern-day cowboy movie. Lamont realized then that yes, he really wanted to go. To hell with this life; he wasn't doing anything with it besides mooch off his parents. He didn't want to be _that guy_ who lived in his parent's basement for the next 20 years, never leaving except to get a new bottle to pee in.

But most of fucking all, he didn't want Luce to get out if he himself couldn't.

"You're leaving her behind?" Lamont asked in regards to Luce's younger sister. The young would be doctor's grin wilted, but the comment only seemed to strengthen the reckless man's resolve.

"Get in; 's now're never, Monty. Y' don' get in now'n y'll never see me again."

Lamont narrowed his eyes and prepared to make a remark about how he didn't really give a shit whether or not he saw Luce again, when the man behind the wheel suddenly revved the engine and spurred him into action. He had to leap in through the window to get in before the car sped off, leaving him behind.

The Franco-Italian hit his head on the door and swore loudly in his haste to not be left behind, fueling one of Luce's loud, howling fits of laughter. The tires skid against the asphalt and lurched the car forward to whatever was in store for them, leaving tread-marks in their wake. The blonde man was excited; they both were.

Neither of them knew where they were headed or what would be in store for them, but they awaited it eagerly all the same.

Lamont knew better than to ask about Luce's plans, but he couldn't help but wonder what the man was going to do. As reckless as he was, most times he had some bare skeleton of an idea laid out to plan what to do on their 'adventures'.

"So…What do we do now?"

"Drive 'n let th' fuckin' wind blow yer greasy lil' hairs 'round till they're clean."

Rather than argue the point (ok yes maybe his hair was a little greasy), he sat back and relaxed against the slightly lumpy seat, his mind ticking. He hadn't said goodbye to his mom, or even told her and his dad what he was planning; Luce hadn't allowed him the time. A tiny smidgen of guilt crossed his mind, but he cast it away. His father would probably commend him for finally taking some god damn initiative in his life. Lamont sighed as he felt the wind run through his hair and glanced around at the blurry scenery. What the hell, just how fast was Luce driving?

Glancing at the speedometer (and then wishing he hadn't), Luce proved to be going well over 80, even though the speed limit was a slow, steady 45.

"How're you going to pay for gas? You're going to run out before we get anywhere good with the way you're driving."

"I got plenty'a money wi' me that we'll be set fer more'n a couple tanks." He grinned devilishly as he patted his pocket that Lamont just now seemed to notice had an unsightly bulge to it; the corners of a few bills poking out over the lining.

"What the hell, how much money do you have?"

"Any 'n all tha' my mum left in 'er purse."

Rich bitch.

"You're going to hell." Lamont said with a sigh, grinning all the same.

"An' 'm takin' you wi' me."


End file.
